Lead Me Home
by The.Dust.Of.Jack
Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war, and 10 other song-based ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock.
1. Walking in my Shoes

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

1. Walking in my shoes – Depeche Mode

Sherlock had a dream he was in war. He was dressed suitably, crouched low to the ground, or behind large objects obscuring is view, a gun heavy in his hand, weighing his down, feeling like a ton of responsibility – in it he saw a human's life, or the swift removal of it.

The next moment he's hovering about a dead man, whom he watches bleed, and his shaking hands couldn't handle even the bandages he had ready, never mind a swift removal of the bullet itself.

His following thoughts were wondering how he wasn't already dead, the way he fumbled about, feeling confused, dazed, _scared_. There was no puzzle, no mystery to figure his way through, he was completely out of his zone. He was a soldier, inexperienced and nervous, stuck in a war that was not his to fight. He wanted to go home, back to where things made sense. A man besides him was married with three kids, and another graduated from Oxford with a first with honours, and the man across the way firing at them had a very sick grandmother he wished he could go home to help and it made little difference what Sherlock could or couldn't tell here, in fact it made everything worse. Here, his gift was a curse.

Enemy fire hit him in his shoulder, making him stumble back. Pain exploded behind his eyes and he fell ungracefully to the ground. Around him, people were shouting. "Watson!" They called, and for a moment Sherlock felt himself in John's body, felt something new and strong and calm, and it made him feel all the poorer.

When he woke, he saw the brightness outside and smelt the tea John was brewing downstairs. He took a moment to be amazed that maybe his evaluation of John was wrong; John was much more than Sherlock had initially credited him to be.

When he found himself in the kitchen, he couldn't help but stare at the steady hand which John used to pour Sherlock's tea.

* * *

End.


	2. The Times, they are a changing

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

2. The Times They Are A-Changing – Bob Dylan

Chris Watson was not happy at his eldest when she stumbled into the door, drunk and giggling, a pretty blonde hanging off her arm. Chris disliked looking at the intensity which they were looking at each other, the way they were pressed up against the other girl, the rosy blushes across their cheeks.

His hackles were raised instantly, everything about him screaming this was sick; a sacrilege to the human race, and he glared hotly at the girls. Harry, in turn, glared back with hard eyes and Chris was quick to realise that look came from him. Did he really look so angry?

"Who's this?" He asked moodily, knowing full well who it was – Harry's girlfriend. The first she brought home, perhaps, but certainly not her very first in general. She had recently told him and John about her sexuality over breakfast and both the boys had choked on their food.

John himself walked down the stairs casually before Harry could answer, said hi to the girl whom he knew as well, called Helen. He seemed unconcerned by their proximity, passing by to get to the kitchen as if this happened every day, if a little disappointed for entirely different reasons to that of Chris. Maybe this was not a problem to him; not strange at all. Maybe Chris was just old, for he surely felt it – his baby girl making her big decisions, and his little son suddenly big enough to understand where Chris himself failed to. Times were different now, he knew. People were people, and Harry was Harry, not some stranger – Chris just had to accept it.

* * *

End.


	3. Made Up Stories

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

3. Made Up Stories – Go: Audio

John wasn't sleeping as Sherlock came in.

"Go away." He said, and Sherlock started.

"Excuse me?" He asked, and John refused to look at him, his back curled towards the man, his face in his pillow.

"Go." He repeated, and he heard the door creak as Sherlock did.

John saw him outside later, looking awkward and itchy, like a mutt with fleas. John felt nothing as he left the house, numb with cold which had nothing to do with the temperature and his yet fingers burnt under the feel of the wool of Sherlock's coat.

"Here." He muttered, draping it over the shivering form, illness brought on by his lack of covering. Sherlock's face asked if he was forgiven, and silently John opened the door. He was not, of course, Sherlock could deduce that easily from John's expression of careless blankness.

"Close the door." John said when they reached the flat, and Sherlock nodded, doing as told for the second time that evening.

"What upset you more?" Sherlock wondered out loud, sounding normal and nonchalant – maybe this was his mistake; what pissed John off the most. "My actions or my lying about them?"

"I'm not upset." John replied.

"Disappointed, then?"

John's smile was strained. "No, Sherlock." He said. "I'm just tired."

"Do you not trust me anymore?"

Sherlock felt colder than he had before when John walked slowly to his room, pointedly not replying, as if to protect his roommate from the truth.

* * *

End.


	4. The World is Not Enough

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

4. The World if Not Enough – Garbage

Jim knew Sherlock was as transfixed on him as he was on Sherlock – amazed, dazzled, drowing in not-quite love upon the finding of an equal and an opposite.

Jim was everything Sherlock wasn't, and could fill in where Sherlock lacked, such as knowledge of social cues and the ability to kill in cold blood, whereas Sherlock could refrain from his murderous streak, and chase the bread crumbs Jim left instead.

Together, they could set the world on fire, and they would be the only ones who survive. They could travel and watch their surroundings crash due to their battles of wits, strength and keep themselves apart.

After they had destroyed everything, they could float in the forever of space, close and so far apart, because there was so much more out there for them both and everything Earth could offer was trivial at best. He knew Sherlock would love it – would appreciate the emptiness.

It would be him, Jim Moriarty, who would show Sherlock the wonders of the universe the detective knew nothing of.

* * *

End.


	5. Paradise Lost

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

5. Paradise Lost – Steps

Harry missed him so much.

She couldn't go a day without thinking about her brother, about his risking his life in Afghanistan, constantly under the treat of dying – she read about it in the papers all the time.

She'd see people on the roads, and she knew they were travelling far away. She wanted them to take her with her – to take her to John.

She remembered everything about him, from his disappointed sighs towards her drinking, to the happy grin he had when they were 18 and 20 when she finally dragged him away from home, away from the shouting matches, the anger that lived in that house.

She wanted him home, safe, where she could see him. She didn't want to let go of him, she needed to know he was out of harms way. He was all she had left in this world, what with Clara leaving and her drinking habits screwing up everything and causing her to become an alien to her mates; to her family.

When he did return, though, she knew she would never say anything other than 'Hey' and occasionally force him out to the pub for a couple of drinks. John would go on being John, disapproving and full of John-sighs which made Harry curl up and die a little on the inside, because he never used to give her those sighs when they were children – his looks were always adoring, loving his older sister, idolising her, spending time with her, playing games, being children.

They weren't children now, but John was still her little brother, and she could do nothing but watch the news every morning with dread and anticipation for the pretty, prim news reader to tell her he's dead before the army could. She was meant to protect him, because she was the oldest, but he had somehow ended up being the one whom always protected her instead, be it from drink, arguments or herself. And without him, what would she do?

* * *

End.


	6. TiK ToK

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

6. TiK-ToK – Ke$ha

John's boom-box had gone missing.

It was ancient, a proper model from the eighties, originally a gift from his favourite aunt, who was as mental as she was skint when she died. She left all her imaginary money to the invisible cats of course.

John didn't use it much – what with his being in the army and then being so out of touch with reality that popular music was just weird now, his having missed the bridge between 'Just Dance' and 'Alejandro', those middle bits being the one which somehow makes Alejandro make some sort of sense, apparently, but that didn't mean he wanted it to just up and disappear.

He of course knew who had it.

He found it pretty quickly, considering it was on the kitchen table and Sherlock was running away from it, catching John's arm and cutting across him as he demanded to know what the hell Sherlock was doing with his speakers.

"Experiment!" Sherlock said, his excuse by default, pushing him and himself down behind the armchair, curling himself around John as small as he could manage to make them both. John knew Sherlock enough to figure his boom-box was as good as dead but couldn't help the wince as he heard it shatter into a million pieces.

* * *

End.


	7. Ghetto Gospel

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

7. Ghetto Gospel – 2pac, ft. Elton John

"I don't understand." Sherlock managed eventually, looking down at the murderer as he confessed. He seemed as speechless as Lestrade and John were too, and they turned to look at Sherlock out of shock. This was a monumental confession and the man before them didn't even seem to realise. "That doesn't make sense."

The man, Vincent Browner, raised a dark brow, his face even more pale against the blackness of his hair. "What's not to understand? He was dirty. I decide to clean the filth."

"He wasn't, he was cleaner than you." Sherlock said, portraying his confusion by taking things very literally, as Sherlock tended to do always. "More than definitely, he was almost OCD about –"

"Sherlock," John cut across lowly. "He means the skin colour."

Sherlock seemed even more confused. "Why would that make a man dirty?"

"Colour of filth!" The murderer said rashly, standing up and Lestrade shouted him still. "I cleanse it for God! Whites are superior!"

"White skin is more venerable, caused by evolution due to living in colder climates," Sherlock said almost unconsciously – it was clear his brain was trying to understand the concept of extreme racism which, obviously to an intellect as high as Sherlock, had never posed a problem before in his life. Racism was quick to fade to insignificance when everyone in the world is put on an equal playing field by the fact they're all idiots. "Technically, physically, that makes darker skin superior."

The man stood up abruptly, face contorted with rage, obviously wanting to cause harm to Sherlock. John and Lestrade were quick to tackle him away from the detective. He screamed obscenities at the man, and Sherlock watched on, impassive and confused. "I don't understand." He repeated. "How ridiculous a reason."

"Humans are just that, then, Sherlock?" Lestrade grunted out through his struggles, almost as if a joke. "Humans?"

"Of course they are, Lestrade, lest the word. Why, does skin colour change anything?" Sherlock asked, and the man in custody went into a further rage all three ignored.

"No, Sherlock." John reassured the socially awkward man. "It's all fine, remember?"

Sherlock nodded, as he looked to John for guidance. "All fine." He repeated.

* * *

End.


	8. Welcome to the Black Parade

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

8. Welcome To The Black Parade – My Chemical Romance

There was silence for a while as John watched the TV and Sherlock continued with his experiments.

On the screen, muted of course for silence was all that fell in 221B, the Queen strolled, waving and smiling, and John allowed himself pride at her reign, proud of his living under her, proud of being English. Sherlock looked over to him a few times, he knew, he could feel the stare, but that didn't stop the patriotic smile which graced John's features.

He went put the kettle on when he felt the tide of emotional Britishness pass, but as he stood he felt it come over him in waves again, and he felt a bounce in his step, a glint to his eye, a flush to his cheeks, and he felt Sherlock smirk at his back.

"You'd run, wouldn't you?" The other man asked as John rummaged for something with the word 'British' and the union flag sprawled across it. He was hungry for British food, pining for British tea, eagerly awaiting the British call of London, weeping in distress as another beloved citizen has been killed in a bizarre way which Sherlock and John must swoop into action to solve.

Mr Murder and his sidekick Doctor British! It would make for a good TV show. The arch-enemy, of course, being Not-British-At-All-Judging-By-The-Alarming-Un-British-Accent, even though PM Umbrella-Features may pretend to be evil all he wants, he's just adorably British underneath.

"Run?" John asked back, chipper but still not following Sherlock's train of thought. "Run where?"

"If England asked you back to Afghanistan." Sherlock stated. "You'd run."

John winked at Sherlock jovially, and it made Sherlock start somewhat. "I'd sprint." He grinned.

* * *

End.


	9. Fade to Grey

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

9. Fade to grey – Visage

Sherlock liked France about as much as he liked anywhere else – he accepted it existed, and to some degree he admitted it wasn't ugly, but beyond that it was just effort. Yes, France exists, and so does that snail someone just trod on. Does anyone really care? He means besides the woman who now has a sole covered in snail innards.

They walked around being as much the tourists as Mycroft intended them to be when he produced the all expenses paid tickets to John, insisting they need a vacation, though he knew Sherlock would go insane should he be further from his home and precious murders in his own language than Paris.

They went up the Eiffel tower, and no one looked at the strangely. They went to the Louvre and no one looked twice at them. John struggled through the French language and some locals just rolled their eyes, but no one thought they were any different from the other insufferable English tourists. They were just another part of the overcrowded French scenery, and it was a beautiful feeling.

* * *

End.


	10. Chiquitita

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

10. Chiquitita – ABBA

Sherlock found himself relying on John. This was not a conscious decision.

There were reasons, obviously, that he had become so attached – one of them being that there was simply no one else he could become attached to.

There was also John's steady personality with morals Sherlock lacked, feelings John made Sherlock feel guilty for not having, which was first. John was a rock Sherlock could call home because he was always there: when Sherlock turned there stood John, be he smiling or frowning or looking at Sherlock with this incredible awe that blew Sherlock away.

John told Sherlock when to be different – when to be human, when to try to feel, be he sociopath or no. He made sure Sherlock kept on a path which Sherlock could hardly see himself half the time, blinded by never being taught to see it, and he held Sherlock's hand as, like a child, Sherlock would stumble his way through life, attempting to appear normal. Nothing which worked, of course, but it was the sentiment for John which made Sherlock try and John's sentiment back towards Sherlock which made sure he allowed Sherlock to remain Sherlock – he never did have to try too hard, so long as some effort was evident.

John was there as he tried to hide, easing him back into the world. John was a constant, and had forced Sherlock to believe he always would be. Like a fool, Sherlock would always think, he had believed him. Surely, it couldn't last forever.

* * *

End.


	11. Russian Roulette

Title: Lead Me Home  
Rating: Um...everyone ever  
Pairing: None. To any particular extent.  
Warning: Um...spoilers, yes maybe no.  
Word Count: Each are short. Hence, drabble. Though that's a lie, they're probs the ficlets things.  
Disclaimer: Neither songs nor Sherlock reincarnation mine.

Summary: Sherlock dreams he is in war,_ and 10 other ficlets exploring the world of Sherlock._

A/N: Picking a song at random on music player and writing something around it. First 10! Of course, you can only write as long as the song lasts (good news for Meatloaf fans :D). I've cleared them up a little, but I've generally stuck to it. Inspired by a fellow_ Sherlock_ writer who was inspired by someone else ^^

* * *

11. Russian Roulette – Rihanna

Sherlock wasn't scared as he faced Jeff the cabbie, but he could feel himself twitch under the confident gaze of the serial killer and he felt logic slip away as he faced the two pills, and one slid forward.

"Play the game." Jeff said, and like a puppy Sherlock did as told. He took a bottle, and he tried to believe his choice was right.

Being as clever as Sherlock was meant being able to analyse to the point of incomprehension, but that didn't work when a double bluff could be triple bluffed and then bluffed on into eternity. The only sure thing which Sherlock's mind stubbornly clung onto was the idea of chance, though the game was now chess and chance had nothing to do with it as soon as Jeff pushed what Sherlock would forever say was the bad bottle towards him for as long as he lived, be that fifty years or five minutes.

Chance was all which was left for a sane man to clutch on to, as not even Sherlock could follow what Jeff could possibly be thinking. They might both be bad bottles for all Sherlock knew, with Jeff never swallowing.

Sherlock held his chosen pill to the light, looking to see for a clue, but without the other one to compare it to it made no difference to his confidence or lack there of. He glanced to Jeff who was smirking, considering it another battle won or bluffing, Sherlock didn't know, and Sherlock felt fear rise slowly through the panic, and he hated it.

But, with the pill pressed to his lips, he knew he'd forever play the game, and he'd be more than willing to die for it.

Then a bullet shot through the window, and Sherlock found himself living to risk his life away another day.

* * *

End.


End file.
